My dad forgot to hang up. I heard every word: «She’s a burden.» I stayed quiet….
I managed to avoid my parents for nearly three months. I changed my routines, shopped at different stores, and became hyper vigilant about my surroundings. But I knew a confrontation was inevitable.
What I didn’t expect was how it would happen. Rachel Chin, my former neighbor, called me on a Tuesday afternoon. Emma? I thought you should know.
Your parents are back at the house. My heart raced. What do you mean at the house? It’s not their house anymore.
I know that, Rachel said. But they’re parked outside right now, just sitting in their car, staring at it. The new owners are away on business.
So I don’t think they know yet. I just thought you might want to know. I thanked her and immediately called Richard Thompson, the new owner, to warn him.
He was concerned but grateful for the heads up and said he’d alert his security company. Later that evening, my phone rang with an unfamiliar number. Against my better judgment, I answered.
Emma. It was my father’s voice, tight with controlled anger. We need to meet.
Tomorrow. The coffee shop on Maple Street at 10 AM. If you don’t show up, we’re going to your office again, and this time.
We won’t leave quietly. Before I could respond, he hung up. I called Patricia immediately.
They’re threatening to make a scene at my workplace if I don’t meet with them. You don’t have to meet them at all, she reminded me. We could get a restraining order based on these threats.
I considered this option but ultimately decided against it. No. I think I need to face them.
But I want it on my terms, not theirs. The next morning, I arrived at the Daily Grind, a popular coffee shop downtown, at precisely 10. 15 AM, late enough to make a point but not so late they’d leave.
I’d chosen this location because it was public, always busy. And the owner was a client of mine who I knew would have my back if things got ugly. I spotted my parents immediately, sitting at a corner table.
My mother’s face was drawn. Her normally perfectly styled hair looking somewhat neglected. My father’s jaw was set in that familiar rigid line that had always signaled dangerous waters ahead.
I approached their table calmly. Dressed in my most professional outfit, another suit of armor. Robert.
Diana, I greeted them, deliberately using their first names instead of mom and dad. My mother flinched. My father’s face darkened further.
Sit down, he commanded. I’m not here to take orders, I replied evenly. I agreed to meet you because I thought it might be time to clear the air.
But this conversation happens on equal terms or not at all. I sat down across from them, placing my phone conspicuously on the table between us. Is that really necessary? My mother asked, gesturing to the phone.
Given our history, yes, I said. I record all important business meetings now. We’re your parents, not a business meeting, my father snapped.
And yet you threatened my workplace if I didn’t comply with your demands. That sounds more like extortion than parenting. My directness caught them off guard.
They were used to me backing down, accommodating, seeking peace at any cost. What you did was unforgivable, my father finally said. You stole our home.
It was never your home, I replied. It was my home, which I generously allowed you to live in. A fact you apparently considered a burden.
My mother’s eyes widened. What are you talking about? I pressed play on my phone and their own voices filled the space between us. She’s been a burden from the start.
All those years of expenses, college, everything. Now she has this valuable property just dropped in her lap. And what? She thinks she deserves it? What has she ever done? I stopped the recording and looked up to find my mother pale and my father flushed with anger.
You recorded us privately? That’s illegal, he sputtered. Actually, it’s not illegal to record a conversation that you’re part of, which I was since you called me and then failed to hang up properly. But that’s beside the point.
The point is that I finally heard what you really think of me. You misunderstood. My mother interjected quickly.
We were tired, stressed about money while on an expensive European vacation that I paid for. I interrupted. Please don’t insult my intelligence by lying to me again.
So you sold the house out from under us? My father demanded, left us homeless as some sort of revenge. I sold my house because I finally realized it would never truly be mine as long as you were in it. And you’re not homeless…